- BLOG -

I admit it. I've been talking with Stalker again. And only Stalker. Yup, it seems I'm off-season and looking for a little one to one. It's weird, considering monogamy. I haven't had the urge for that sort of tomfuckery since the whole Scout debacle. Fucking, no good sack of shit (yea, there's still a bit of desire of sweet, sweet revenge concerning that fuck). Yet even with the long line of disappointment that is my dating history, I think I want to try this shit again

​The fuck am I thinking?
As some of you may remember, I first met Stalker through a mutual friend (who can now fuck themselves harder than Scout, for those keeping score) while my ill-conceived ex was spending some quality time in double lock down at the crazy house (I know how to pick 'em, don't I?). At that time, I said no to sex (but agreed to other naughty bit fun) because sleeping with someone else seemed wrong while my darling fuckwad was seeking psychiatric help. Score one for stupidity, folks.

But from the start, I was intrigued by my favorite stalker and continued correspondences. And shortly after New Year's, when Scout was sent to three months in prison out of state (just a pot charge) I decided to have some fun. I am a whore, after all.

After a few fun flings with friends old and new, I found myself rolling around with Stalker. And it was fun. And when Scout came back and decided that life was too complicated for a relationship (so glad I didn't wait for that winner) I decided to give Stalker some serious thought.

But there were (and still are) a few issues for me. First off, Stalker works way too much for anything more than hot, sweaty sex. Bad Lordy, what am I saying? Do I actually want more than some wam bam? Strangely, yes. But I don't see how that can happen with a sixty-plus hour work week. Strike one.

And then there's the cuddling factor. As in, I hate it. Not all the time, mind you. It's great when you're watching a movie or whatnot but when it's light's out I don't want your nasty sweat on my back or hot breath on my neck. Sleep time means sleep. If you touch me, we're doing it again. That's the rule. Strike two.

Finally, the alcohol. God damn, there's a lot of it. See, I've dated those in AA (yikes) and those who need it (perhaps I'll tell you about that one day soon) and neither worked out, for glaringly obvious reasons. And Stalker needs to let up on the booze. Seriously getting a bit tipsy once and a while is all good, but when you sweat beer every time we hook up, it don't make me feel so good. Control your shit. Strike three.

I know that this should be an easy decision (fuck off) but because I'm human and occasionally desire more than orgasms (and strangely attracted to what I'm sure is bad for me) I want to give this thing a go. Hell, maybe it'll work out. Or maybe it'll crash and burn in epic failure. Either way, I want to know, if only to keep shit entertaining.